Stop stop stop. Don’t backslide now, I reprimand myself. You’re better than this. Remember what you told Debra at the diner about never wanting to hurt Grace in any way.
She trusts me. She thinks I’m a good man.
I want to deserve her trust. I want to prove to God, to myself, and to Debra that I’m the person they believe me to be.
I shove the thoughts about Grace out of my head.
“Hey,” I greet, watching as she walks over. “I didn’t know you were coming over.”
“Thought I’d drop by with this.” She lifts the plastic bag, smiling shyly, and that little gap between her teeth makes my knees weak. MJ grabs the bag from her, and she flashes me an impish grin as she heads to the kitchen.
Grace throws her arms around me in a hug. I can’t help it; I pull her to me. This close, she smells so good, like fresh waffles and Sunday morning, the memory of sitting between my mom and dad as we ate brunch after church.
I look where MJ is pulling takeout boxes from the bags, then glance down at Grace, grinning wide. It’s like Christmas and my birthday all rolled into one. “You brought waffles?”
“Waffles Sunday. I thought we could eat brunch together because you’re leaving. I mean, I should have called . . .” She twists her fingers nervously.
“Shush, Gracie. Just because I’m leaving doesn’t mean you can’t stop by whenever you want. We were friends before, before things got weird, remember?”
She nods, hiking on the tip of her toes and kissing my cheek. “We’ll always be friends, no matter what. Always, Sol.” Then she walks away and tosses her keys and purse on the coffee table and heads for the counter. Her scent lingers, teasing me, reminding me what I’ll be leaving behind.
I remind myself she’s better off being with someone who’s clear about what they really want, not doing things half-assed. Sometimes loving someone means letting them go, no matter how much it hurts, because you know you are not good for them.
With that decision in mind, I join my three friends in the kitchen, making sure to keep a healthy distance between Grace and me by staying on the other side of the counter.
We end up taking the food with us in the living room where MJ suggests we watch a movie. After we all agree—or rather MJ and Grace—to watch 10 Things I Hate About You, MJ and Ivan end up on the loveseat. Grace grabs a pillow from the couch before her friend can protest and tosses it on the floor. She plops down cross-legged and digs into her waffles and ice cream with vigor. It’s a treat to watch her eat.
Finally, I settle for the ugly green plastic chair Ivan bought from a flea market downtown last spring and take a bite of my food. The movie starts, and from the corner of my eye, I see Grace kick off her shoes and wiggle her toes. I can’t stop staring at her toes. They look adorable. I’d totally kiss them and—
Oh my God.
Kiss her toes? What on earth is wrong with me?
Why the heck am I thinking about her toes?
I sigh, scooping another bite into my mouth, and force my gaze to the screen just as one of the female actors—I’m not good with names—rips a poster from the wall. On my right, Ivan and MJ are feeding each other waffles and whispering to each other. If they start calling each other kitten or any other name, I’m out of here.
At some point, I find Grace watching me with heat in her eyes, but she bites the corner of her mouth and quickly looks away when our gazes meet. Then she sets her plate on the table and stands. Grabbing her pillow, she walks toward me. Then she’s arranging it at my feet and tugging my hand, urging me to join her.
I start to shake my head, letting her know it’s not a good idea, but she mouths, “Please. Please,” and whispers, “Come sit with me.”
And I do because I still haven’t learned how to say no to her. I mean, it’s not like she’s asking me to touch her boob or something.
Seconds later, I carefully wrap my arm around her shoulder. She sighs, burrowing deeper into my chest. I haven’t held her like this since the time she left my apartment after the revelation. I’m not sure if she wants me to, if she’s comfortable with me touching her. It’s just, I don’t want to overstep.
I squeeze her shoulder to get her attention. When her gaze meets mine, I ask, “Is this weird, you know, after what your mom . . .”
She quickly shakes her head. “No. I was worried it would be weird for you.”
“I-I missed my best friend,” I finally admit, kissing her hair. “Cute toes, by the way. Pink looks good on you.”
She giggles. “Now who has a foot fetish?”
“Should we leave you two alone or something?” Ivan asks, setting their plates on the table and standing up while pulling MJ to her feet. He drags her toward his room, tossing me a wink from over his shoulder.
Chuckling, I roll my eyes at his persistence, like a dog with a bone. He still doesn’t get it.
Settling in my arms and letting out a sigh, the tension in Grace’s body melts away slowly. “Are you going to miss me?” she asks.
“Of course, I will.”
She’s quiet for a few seconds. She lifts her hand and runs her fingers through my hair. She opens her mouth to say something, then stops, a frown on her face.
“What is it?” I ask her.
“I can’t stop thinking about you. Us,” she says in a low voice, eyes on the floor as though admitting it makes her weak. Or maybe she’s ashamed?
She bites her bottom lip and inhales deeply. “I’ve been thinking. Um, I know we almost did it in your truck . . . and I haven’t stopped thinking about it. Do you think we could, I mean, do you want to. . .” She clears her throat and coughs twice, her hands wandering up my chest in cautious light strokes, then down my abs. They stop on my thigh, causing every nerve in my body to stir eagerly. I understand her meaning even without her saying it out loud.
My heart races in my chest, my pulse thudding in my ears. I drop my arms and jump to my feet. “No, Gracie.”
She nods, looking resigned, and mutters, “Okay.”
“What I mean is—”
“Forget it, okay? I just thought . . . Sorry I asked. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I know you said—”
I raise a hand in the air, cutting her off, not in the mood to simply forget it. “Why did you offer it if you’re going to take it back?”
Why am I pissed off anyway?
She sits up on her knees, her eyes dark with irritation. “I’m sorry, okay? Jeez. What’s gotten into you?”
I stare at the TV screen, wondering where this conversation went wrong. Sure, Grace is spontaneous. And sometimes, she says whatever is running inside her head. I should be used to it by now. But sex?
“So you’d give up your virginity just like that?” I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest. God, I’m an asshole. When did I become this guy?
She leaps to her feet and props her hands on her hips. “You think I haven’t thought this through? You think I’d just do away with it like I’m scratching an itch?” She inhales deeply, her nostrils flaring. “You think, after all this time, after refusing to give it up to Gavin and whoever else thought I was easy, asking you if you want to have sex is no big deal? As if it meant nothing?”